Like Hell
by Ladywilde
Summary: Ch 10 and 11 Up! Multi Chpt Fic Michael's early years at section before Nikita feat. Simone&Jurgen Angsty
1. The New Recruit

Like Hell 

_I always thought that Michael deserved a proper back-story, well here it is – enjoy!_

_Rated M for some mild slash, sexuality, language and section one style torture and violence…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own these characters… _

_Authors Notes: This story contains elements of slash. No, Michael is not a homosexual in this story. I have tried to make this as true as I feel it ought to be. I wanted to create a very plausible and very real take on Michael's first years at section before are lovely Nikita came into the picture. Yes, Simone will be included as well as Jurgen who has a quite substantial role in Michael's early days at section one. _

_As always, comments are most appreciated and reviews make me oh so very happy. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!_

Chapter One

The New Recruit

_I am not looking for a clearer conscience_

_Peace of mind for the things I do _

_But before we talk to any repentance _

_Try walking in my shoes _

_- Depeche Mode_

He was aware of only blinding white as he opened his eyes and peered into what he was sure must be the sun itself.

_Am I dead?_

He thought for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the glare of his surroundings. It looked like a hospital room. A very cold hospital room but one nonetheless, he realized that he was lying in a bed.

_What happened?_

Oh yes, Rene and the bombings, prison… he had been sentenced to death.

His eyes began to focus and came to rest on a huge hulking bear of a man; who wore glasses and a bemused expression on his face.

"You're awake, sleep well?" he asked.

Michael could not place the accent, he knew it was English he spoke, that he knew – he spoke English quite well in fact.

It sounded perhaps, how did one say it, like a New Yorker. Yes, like a New Yorker.

"I slept alright," he said in English, he felt disoriented and confused not only by his surroundings but the feel of the words forming from his lips. He could not remember when last he had used the English language in conversation. He felt very strange as if he had been submerged under water. It was then that he realized that he must have been drugged. Yet, why – where was he? The man did not look like a guard or a doctor or anyone of that sort. The first knots of uneasiness began to settle in him as the man stepped closer to the bed.

"That's good because you'll need it," he said as he took off his glasses, small and wire framed and began polishing them on his shirt. His manner was one of slow indulgence as if he had all the time in the world, when he was finished and the glasses were back on his face, he looked back at Michael.

"Your not much of a talker, are you?"

"No," he said and it was the truth. He had always been the quiet sort. He never spoke unless it was necessary for him to do so. "That's good… real good, cus' a mouths only going get you into trouble around here, understand?"

Michael realized he was no longer in prison and he knew that he was certainly not dead. He wanted to ask where here was but he refrained, it was best to keep quiet and let the man before him explain the situation. The man did not disappoint.

"This is section one, the most covert government agency on the planet – you have been recruited to work for us and here is were you will train."

"What if I refuse?" Michael asked as he tried to sit up, keep his mind focused on the odd turn of events unfolding around him. It was important for him to be in control of a situation. He didn't like not being in control over his fate and he was slowly coming to realize that this place though not a prison in the traditional sense was every bit as dangerous, if not more so and the man when he spoke again, confirmed these suspicions.

"You really don't have a choice but then again you were three weeks away from being executed, you should be grateful for the opportunity we are giving you," the man said and there was that bemused expression again and Michael who had an uncanny knowledge of others thoughts and feelings, could sense that this man respected the calm persona that he projected. Inside, however was another matter. He felt cornered, trapped. Yet, he did his best to keep his face impartial. It was a skill he had cultivated over the last few years. His life though still in it's near infancy had been one marred with pain, sacrifice, and heartache.

"It was my choice to die there…" Michael said proudly meaning those words with conviction.

"You believe that?" the man said and now his smile was wider, broader. It seemed as if he was humoring him with that smile. As if he was in on a joke that he wasn't about to share and somehow this infuriated Michael but he kept the mask of calm firmly in place. The man stepped closer to the bed and surveyed Michael with a clinical gaze as if appraising something that was to be sold. This to infuriated Michael and slowly the veneer of calm began to come apart, at least in his eyes. His anger over the situation began to creep into his gaze and the man noticing this, chuckled a bit.

"One thing, I will impart you with is this, my young friend – a cause, pride, those things mean nothing to you now, you do things are way, my way or you will die…understand?"

Michael was thoughtful for a moment before he met this man's eye, his gaze, one of a fierce intense green and then as they held one another's stare he said, " I am not the least bit afraid to die."

"That is why we chose you," the man said not missing a beat.

"You start tomorrow, I suggest you use the time from now till then to rest up – then you are mine and I do not give leeway understand… I am training you to be the best there is, I do not and will not accept anything but…"

Michael did not answer him, just watched as the man turned and walked towards a large metal door and keyed in some numbers on the keypad next to it. The door swooshed open and the man paused and looked back. He smiled again, a strange smile and then turned and left, the doors shutting behind him without sound.

Michael flopped down upon his bed and closed his eyes. He was only twenty-two years old… in fact; what he did not know was that today was not only his birthday but also the day that the outside world officially declared him dead


	2. A Perfect Machine

Chapter 2

A Perfect Machine

_Note: This story is complete, it's about 20 chapters so if you guys like it, I will keep posting quite frequently._

_Reviews are always helpful…please leave one, Thanks…._

His first six months sped by for him as he set upon his training with such determination that even his trainer, a man he would come to know as Jurgen was more then impressed by.

"That boy is simply put a machine," Jurgen said with admiration during his weekly meetings with Operations and Madeline.

They were the ones who ran the section. Michael had sat before them briefly when he had first arrived and had found Operations, a tall graying man in his forties to be a rigid authoritarian at best and as for Madeline, a cool attractive brunette with a cold smile.

He noticed right away that she was studying him as he spoke, looking him over with a practiced eye.

Michael understood the meaning behind her gaze. It did not surprise him but he took no comfort in it. It only served to remind him that in this place, he was little more then an animal.

He had been bought more or less, they could and would do with him what they liked…yet; he couldn't say that he was unhappy there.

The section was cold, sterile, and ruled over with iron clad efficiency but Michael enjoyed a challenge and this was to be his toughest thus far. He appreciated that in some odd way. He had always driven himself unmercifully and he would not fail.

If they expected perfection from him then that is what he would give them and nothing less.

Jurgen was a hard taskmaster and Michael understood that Jurgen drove him harder then the other trainees because it was only Michael that he sensed had any real potential.

If he was often cruel, then he was also very ready in his praise of him.

He was hard but he was also fair and Michael had grown to respect him a great deal. "What will I be expected to do once I am done with my training?"

Michael asked one day and Jurgen was taken aback not so much because Michael rarely spoke unless he was spoken to but also for what Jurgen knew he must tell him.

Michael had been selected not only for his potential as a field operative but also for his extraordinary good looks which Jurgen realized early on that Michael was quite unaware of.

In fact, Michael was actually one of the most beautiful human beings Jurgen had ever seen.

His tousled dark hair, his intense eyes… the chiseled features and thick sensual lips.

He was almost angelic and yet, there was also certain hardness there… his strength, his grace, his sensual way of moving all of it coupled with what was becoming a magnificent physique from his intensive training.

Yes, from the ashes of a mere boy – Jurgen was slowly seeing the emergence of a truly handsome man.

A man that could and would not be resisted by those he would seduce.

Jurgen was molding not only a fierce and skilled fighter but also a valentine operative of unparalleled excellence something he had not yet explained to Michael and was dreading. He chose his words carefully.

"You are only a boy still – but a very handsome one, you will use your looks like your hands, your brain, they are all tools in which you will use to get whatever it is that we need..."

"I am to be a whore," Michael said, cutting him off and it was not so much with disgust as with surprise that he spat out those words.

The heat of them was another surprise to Jurgen. Michael never angered.

He was always very in control of himself. Michael slowly allowed his own words to sink in – he was by no means a virgin.

He had been with women before not many but a few, especially in his early days at the University before Rene, before the cause.

Yet, casual entanglements had never interested him, he did not enjoy it. He preferred to keep his sexual dealings with female friends… people he respected.

"You are a whore," Jurgen said and he was studying Michael again with a look that Michael had come to find himself weary of, he realized early on that Jurgen might have some 'feelings' towards him and since Jurgen did not address them, Michael chose to ignore them.

"Were all whores here," he added softly.

Michael just stared at him, the heat of his brilliant eyes was unnerving Jurgen so he tried another tactic.

His tone was easy when he spoke again.

"Michael, you have killed people – that did not phase you but if and when and there will be a when, we ask you to bed a woman, a man…" His voice almost dipped to a whisper at the last word.

"You will do it."

Michael just continued to stare at him, he was angry. Jurgen could see it and sense it; it was coming off him in waves.

In fact, he had never seen Michael this worked up over anything even though his expression continued to remain as unemotional as ever, his eyes betrayed him.

"Really, after what you have done, how can you come to me with some misguided notions of morality and expect sympathy from me?"

"I do not sleep with just anyone and I do not sleep with men," Michael said with hardness and the point he made, made Jurgen go white in the face.

He was the first to look away and then he was sliding his glasses off his face, polishing them on his shirt, as was his habit. He was quiet and then when he spoke, his voice was low but hard.

"If I tell you to shoot yourself in the head, jump off a bridge or fuck a man … you will do it…or you will die."

"Then I die," Michael said.

"Then your sister dies…" Michael felt as if he had been kicked in the gut.

He kept his face impassive refusing to be baited, to lose his cool. His pride, his will – it was all he had now as the extent of which the section owned him began to creep in frighteningly clear.

"I am sure you have just the man in mind," he said, his hard stare making his point plainly clear.

Jurgen coughed, looked away.

"You just remember who you answer to, got it?"

"Are we done?" Jurgen nodded and stepped aside.

"You are dismissed," he said and Michael turned and walked away – making sure to keep his head high and his strides purposeful as he could feel Jurgen's hard gaze watching as he retreated down the hall and to his quarters.


	3. Unrequited

Chapter 3

Unrequited

_Thank you for the sweet reviews, in terms of plot and character development this is perhaps my favorite story so, it really makes me happy that at least 2 of you out there get it and like it…thanks again for reading._

"He is moody and difficult at times but his mind, he's quick – sharp… this boy has potential of the likes I have never seen," Jurgen explained as he sat across from Madeline during their weekly meetings.

Madeline smiled; it was cold like the rest of her demeanor.

"So – his tests would indicate in fact, I would like to meet with him personally, I feel it is time for us to become better acquainted."

Jurgen understood her meaning loud and clear and it made him uneasy.

The thought of this barracuda of a woman throwing herself upon Michael was upsetting to say the least.

Jurgen knew that Madeline did not take any rejection of any sort very kindly and he knew that Michael would not willingly submit to her demands.

He also had to admit the fact that anyone in bed with Michael would bother him – it had not been his intention to fall in love with his material, his pupil, his trainee but he had.

He wanted him desperately but he would not tell a soul, if not Michael then certainly not Madeline who would use this weakness to the best of her ability.

That was her job, searching out and exploiting others weaknesses.

He could not have her finding his so he kept his homosexual leanings a secret by bedding the occasional female operative.

It was tolerable, in fact, he did not minding bedding women… but they did not stir him not as Michael did.

He could not figure out exactly where the attraction laid, yes Michael was exceptional looking but so were a lot of young men he had trained and worked with but there was something else about him that he could not for the life of him seem to grasp.

It was almost as if he was too good for this place, this life even though Michael had been responsible for several bombings and the deaths of many people, he had a certain wounded quality about him.

It was a quality that Jurgen was drawn to – that and the mystery of Michael himself.

The boy was a machine, the perfect sort that section desired but no matter how immobile he made his expression, his speech, Jurgen sensed a wealth of emotion coiled beneath him, ready to explode. I

t fascinated him to say the least.

"I will arrange it," Jurgen said coolly and Madeline nodded, indicating that the meeting was over and Jurgen stood, his mind on Michael, on how he would tell him of Madeline's intentions.

He would have to sleep with her if he didn't he was a dead man, pure and simple.

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Jurgen stood watching as Michael went at his opponent with cool calculation and savage strength.

Michael had his martial arts trainer pinned in a moment's time and the man was quite embarrassed to have a new recruit, six months in disengage him so quickly.

Michael heard Jurgen cough discreetly behind; he released the man beneath him and jumped to his feet.

The trainer climbed to his feet, shaking his head, struck dumb at the situation.

"Leave us," Jurgen said dismissing him.

The man left clearly not eager to sit around and let Michael bask in his win.

Michael sensed that something was amiss immediately.

"Michael, I have something of which needs to be discussed," Jurgen said and Michael nodded, watching as Jurgen raised his eyes to his own.

There was unease there, of that he could see quite clearly and he stood ready to hear the news, which he was all but certain wasn't going to be good news by any means. "Madeline would like to meet with you, um formally… you understand?"

Michael could see by the tension in Jurgen's stance, the way his shoulders stooped ever so slightly both the intention of his meeting with Madeline and Jurgen's own thoughts on the issue.

"I am to service her then," he said and Jurgen nodded.

"Alright," Michael said, "can I go?"

Jurgen reached out, ready to rest his hand on Michael's forearm but he seemed to refrain from touching him and his hand hung there a moment before he dropped it back to his side.

He cleared his throat.

"Make her happy – please her and whatever you do – never tell that woman no, understand?"

"It's done," Michael said.

"I know this isn't easy for you."

Jurgen seemed ashamed then of what he was sending Michael to do and Michael himself was apprehensive at this bit of news but he knew better now then to dispute any request put before him.

They would kill his sister if he let them down and he couldn't fail her, he couldn't – not after everything.

He had brought too much misery and pain upon her. Her own death would be unbearable. The only hope he had left was for her happiness and survival.

That was all that mattered to him and if they wanted him to behave as little more then an animal then he would .

"It's fine," he said quickly and Jurgen nodded slowly.

"Michael, I just…"

Michael broke the stare, "Is that all?"

Jurgen cleared his throat, nodded.

"Yes."

Michael turned and hurried away towards the showers to change.

Jurgen watched him go with a mixture of pain, desire, and the horror of the position he had allowed himself to be put in.

He had fallen in love with someone he knew with gut wrenching certainty he would never have…unless…no, that was wrong – he was no Madeline commanding others to satisfy him sexually… that would be too terrible to contemplate and yet he could not recall ever wanting anyone as badly as he wanted Michael.


	4. This Life or The Next

_Thanks for reading…I am glad some of you like it…I realize this story is a lot darker then the actual show but I feel its more true to the characters and section as a whole. I wanted to make it more real, more of a prison of sorts…I wanted to create the kind of environment from which Michael's character would have come out of…hope you like and as always reviews are most welcomed, though this story is complete, I do welcome suggestions…_

Chapter 4

This Life or the Next

Michael had come out of her office to find Jurgen standing a discreet distance away. Michael already feeling humiliated, used and bitter about what he had just done – and with whom could not bring himself to speak to him.

Jurgen seemed pained.

They locked eyes for a long moment and then he began to walk towards Michael, but Michael not wanting to deal with the situation he had just found himself unwillingly thrust into, dropped his eyes.

He turned and walked the opposite way, praying that Jurgen would not follow.

Jurgen paused, hung back and stared at Michael's retreating figure, noticed, with heartsick pain how Michael's shoulders now slumped ever so slightly with shame.

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Michael went back to his quarters and threw himself down upon his bed and laid there for a moment, thinking – remembering, his life before – when he had a sense of purpose, when he had believed in something.

It hadn't been easy when after his 2nd semester at the University; he received a call from his father's attorney to inform him that his parents had died in a car accident.

He was horrified by the news and terrified that Danielle, his sister and sixteen at the time had been with them.

She had not, she had been at a friends house… she was frantic with grief.

He left school in a hurry to go home and bury his parents, to be with Danielle. It was then he learned through his father's attorney that he and Danielle were left virtually penniless. It had been a blow to say the least but he had made it, somehow he had continued on – took care of his sister and managed to keep on at school.

Then he met Rene and things changed…

"_It is all rot, pigs…what do they know about suffering, what do you know about it…rich man's son?"_

Rene had changed his perspective, made him see the world in a different light.

He had changed him, made him strong…he would not lose his strength, his pride.

They would not win!

They would not get to him.

There was a sharp knock on his door, he knew who it was but he didn't want to talk – certainly not to Jurgen, their relationship had been strained at best since their heated discussion.

He got up slowly and went to the door, opened it.

Jurgen stood there; He pulled from his heavy coat a bottle of bourbon.

He held it up as a peace offering.

"You okay?" he asked and Michael realized that he was concerned, troubled even.

Michael let him in and nodding, looked to the bottle.

"What's that for?"

"Thought you could use it," he said as he handed it over to Michael, who shook his head, declining it.

"No thank you," he said and Jurgen shrugging his shoulders took a nice healthy slug for himself.

He was unsure of what to say, so he started slow.

"Michael… I am your superior that is a fact but I also want to be your friend, you can talk to me…"

"There is nothing to talk about," Michael said stubbornly.

He went back to his bed, sat down and looked away from Jurgen who stood before him, watching him.

Jurgen took another gulp from the bottle and placed it down on the table.

He came over to the bed, Michael looked up – waiting to see what he would do.

Jurgen was looking at him again with that same expression that always made him uneasy, especially now – after he knew with certainty that he was at their mercy.

He was there puppet and they would do with him what they liked.

"Can I sit?" Jurgen asked politely.

Michael looked up, caught his eye.

" I would rather you didn't," he said coolly and Jurgen nodded, went back to the table and took another sip.

His back was turned to Michael.

"If I told you I was sorry, would you believe me?"

His voice was low, seeped with bitterness.

Michael stood, went over to Jurgen and took the bottle from his hands, holding Jurgen's gaze, he took a long deliberate swallow of the fiery liquor.

He handed it back to Jurgen; his eyes so intense, so frighteningly bright.

They looked as if they had been light from within, they were eyes that Jurgen knew would haunt him the rest of his life.

He was sure that Michael could sense, feel his agitation, his pain – his heart was beating so hard, so fast.

"Yes," Michael told him, " I would believe you."

"Then I am sorry, truly – you are all I – I dreamed of as a pupil… you are gifted in so many ways, you give me hope," he paused, realizing how pathetic he sounded.

"You do not deserve this life," he finally added and Michael was looking at him curiously.

He was studying him and Jurgen felt uneasy.

He knew that Michael was always in control of himself, of any situation .

He was unbreakable and yet, Jurgen knew that inside Michael was in pain, seethed in bitterness and anger.

He took another sip, trying to calm himself but he was slowly realizing that he was doing nothing but getting drunk.

He had to go – why had he come, what had he hoped to accomplish?

"I deserve to burn in hell, in this life or the next, nothing more," Michael said quietly from his side and Jurgen heard but did not see his tears.

"That is not true," Jurgen said in a heated whisper.

Michael knew what Jurgen had to say, what he wanted to reveal to him and Michael knew that this was something; he could not give him, ever.

He would do what he had to do for section but he would not manipulate the one person he had left, who he truly respected.

He knew he could use Jurgen's feelings for him to his advantage but he would not prostitute himself for his own purpose.

That would be the last of his humanity and they could not take that from him.

They couldn't break him that easily.

"You should go…" Michael said cautiously.

Jurgen reached forward and gently touched Michael's face, trailed a finger down the length of his jaw.

Michael caught his hand and bringing it back down, he released it.

His eyes never left Jurgen's face.

"Don't."

It was one word but it was enough to bring Jurgen back to himself.

He blinked and then seemed embarrassed by his display of such blatant emotion. "Forgive me," he said and Michael nodded.

"Never ask that of me, please…"

It was the please that nearly brought Jurgen to the end of his tether.

He wanted to cry, he wanted to punch his fist through the very walls but what he wanted most of all was Michael in his arms, in his life…

"Alright," he said, wanting to say more but he couldn't.

He was terrified at that moment, he felt as if he would explode from frustration and desire, pain and loss.

If this was love then it was the most brutal feeling Jurgen had ever experienced.

It seemed capable of killing him.

He stepped away from Michael, the bottle clasped in his hand, his eyes distant and far away.

He went to the door but Michael did not follow.

"Goodnight," Jurgen said as he let himself out.

"Goodnight," Michael said quietly.

Jurgen did not look back as the door closed behind him.


	5. Enter Simone

Chapter 5

Enter Simone

_Okay, this is the part in the story were Michael's first wife Simone is introduced. . Since the character had only five minutes of screen time, I had to do my best in creating her character. As always comments and suggestions make me happy….thanks!_

"You wanted to see me," Jurgen asked as he stepped into Madeline's office, the next morning.

He was hung over, angry with himself and in no mood for Madeline to give him her follow up on Michael's 'job' performance.

"Have a seat," she said kindly.

Her smile was glued on tight, her posture as straight as ever.

He shivered, chilled by her presence, that cold, calculating look in her eyes.

"Thank you," he said as he sat. God, he had tied one on last night.

He felt as if his head was coming apart from the pressure.

"I wanted to speak to you about Michael," she said.

He nodded, waiting for her to speak.

"He has the makings of a valentine op," she said coolly.

Jurgen coughed, nodded.

Madeline went on. "He is calm, yet tender – passionate and yet in perfect control, he never forgets who he is even in the moment," she smiled slyly and went on.

Jurgen thought he would be sick at the thought of her and Michael.

Oh god, Michael – what had he done last night, going to his room, all but telling him how he felt. He had been a fool and he was far too old, far to embittered to allow himself to be so foolish. He was furious with himself yet most of all with Madeline for putting them both in such unfortunate positions.

" I am in no position to train him for such things…I have no experience."

He knew he was speaking too fast; he was too urgent in his speech. He knew that Madeline noticed; he saw the cool calculation in her eyes as she studied him. It was her job after all, to crawl into other people's brains and think their thoughts.

"I know," she said and then her smile was broader, wider.

"I have someone in mind, she is one of are very best valentine ops, she is cool and efficient and Michael will benefit from her tutorage."

Jurgen nodded, he felt sick.

"Her name is Simone, she will be around later this afternoon in the gym – so she and Michael can be introduced."

"Very good," Jurgen answered, wanting nothing more then to bolt from the room, from the sight of her cold brown eyes, her glued on phony smile.

"You may leave," she said and he stood quickly.

"Very well," he said formally as he turned to leave.

"You are doing an exceptional job with Michael, thank you," she added.

He turned back slightly, "Your welcome," he said, trying to hide the edge in his voice as he left.

The steel doors of her office shutting firmly behind him.

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Jurgen was in his office sometime later when Michael came in.

"Morning," he offered as Jurgen looked up.

"Good morning Michael," he said.

There was a pause then, it was heavy with emotion.

"Take a seat," Jurgen said pointing to a chair in front of his desk. Michael sat. He seemed a bit tense and yet, he was looking at him with a curious expression.

Yes, in his eyes, Jurgen read the words he did not say.

_It's all right_, those eyes were telling him, _do not be ashamed… it's okay, it's all right. _Jurgen coughed and slid his glasses from his head, leaned back in his chair and set about polishing them.

"I spoke to Madeline earlier," Jurgen said and Michael blanched visibly at the sound of her name.

"You left um, quite an impression on her," he said and Michael looked away.

"Does she wish to see me again?" Michael offered in a small voice and Jurgen put his glasses back on.

"No, in fact, she has other plans for you – other then, well you know… she thinks you have what it takes to be well, a valentine op."

Jurgen knew that he was speaking far to quickly, but it was too painful for him to say these words, to tell Michael what it was that section required of him.

He was to be a whore – that was the job they felt most suited him and it angered him, down right infuriated him that this exceptional boy, this fierce and amazingly skillful would be field operative was being used for little more then his beautiful face and magnificent physique.

"A valentine op," Michael repeated, saying the words slowly as if he was thinking them over, trying to get them to make a new kind of sense, one whose answer wasn't so blatantly clear.

"Yes," Jurgen said.

Michael looked back towards him.

"Are you to train me in that department?"

Jurgen looked down and then up towards Michael.

"No," he said and he saw Michael inhale deeply, as if relieved and that cut Jurgen deeply but he understood.

_He doesn't want you and never will_

"I am afraid that duty has been assigned to someone by the name of Simone, I have never met her but she comes highly recommended," he offered.

Jurgen glanced at his watch and then back at Michael.

"You have tactical in five, you better get a move on…"

Michael stood, it seemed that he wanted to say something but he didn't, he just stood there for a moment and then he turned and left.

Jurgen waited till he was gone, before he bowed his head to his desk, waiting for the pounding in his head to stop.

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Jurgen stood a discreet distance away while Michael worked on his high kicks with his martial arts trainer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone coming up beside him. He turned and saw that it was a woman, a very beautiful woman.

She was petite and Asian, dressed in silky black pants, matching tank top and a silk lavender scarf wrapped stylishly around her neck.

Her eyes were a beautiful almond shape and so dark, he couldn't see iris, just intense black.

Her lips were dark and painted beautifully, all the better to show off the beautiful smile she wore as she approached.

"You must be Jurgen," she said as she offered her hand to him.

He took it, shook it… her perfume was a heady combination of violets and musk.

"Yes, and you must be Simone," he said by way of greeting.

"Is that Michael?" She asked gesturing towards him.

"Yes," Jurgen said as they both watched as Michael whipping himself into a calculated frenzy. His body taut, poised – soaked in sweat.

Simone nodded appreciative.

"Madeline was right," she said slowly and Jurgen turned and studied her perfect profile. "About?"

"He is magnificent," she said with a slow smile as she turned back towards him and Jurgen willed himself to remain indifferent.

"Would you like me to call him over?" He asked politely and she was nodding.

"Yes, please."

"Michael," he called and Michael stopped, turned and it was for him as if time stood still. He did not see Jurgen, all he saw was the woman beside him. She was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever seen… like some rare delicate flower, so coolly poised.

Their eyes met and she smiled, a slow delicate curve of lip over teeth.

It was so deliberate and so sensual that he found himself trembling, ever so slightly… was this Simone?

He made his way to them slowly, knowing he was shaking and as he came up to them, this glorious looking woman, stepped towards him and offered him her hand.

"Hi Michael," she said in low voice, "I'm Simone."

"Hello," he said.

Jurgen came up beside them and placed his hand on Michael's shoulder, Michael took his eyes off Simone to look at Jurgen.

His mentor's eyes were clouded over, perhaps with worry, pain.

He coughed and then said, "Simone, will take over for now, I will touch base with you later."

Michael nodded.

"Simone," Jurgen said politely and Simone smiled, "You've been very kind, thank you," she said.

Jurgen turned and hurried away, leaving them alone.

"You go ahead and change, I'll wait," she said as their eyes met again.

God, she was beautiful and so cool – so collected like him. He could not recall when he had last been so attracted to a woman.

"I'll be quick," he said.

"You take all the time in the world," she told him.

When he came back out, showered and dressed neatly. Simone was overcome for a moment by just how attractive he was.

"Sorry to keep you," he said politely.

She smiled and held his eye, "You were worth waiting for," she said.


	6. Over Wine

Chapter 6

Over Wine

_Note: I am glad some of you are enjoying this - big thanks to cavanaugh-girl for reviewing every chapter, I really appreciate it…Also, I am also seriously in love with her story, "All Roads Lead Back To You," check it out - it's fantastic…_

He didn't mean to be rude but he couldn't stop himself from looking around him at the crowd of people circling the chic bar she had taken him to.

He was in awe of the people, his surroundings, it had been so long since he had been out amongst people, and he was more then a little overwhelmed by it all.

His companion, the ever sleek and ever beautiful Simone sat across from him with a bemused expression on her sensual lips.

She was amused by his curiosity of what was going on around him. The couples locked in deep conversation over bottles of chilled champagne.

The men standing in the corners, eying the gaggle of lovely young beauties that sat drinking martinis and gossiping at the bar.

She reached across the table and tugged him by the lapels of the black coat he was wearing; he turned back to her embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," he said.

There was an easy smile on her face as she sat back and reached for her wine. He was intrigued with her to say the least, she had such a cool ease about her, and even the way she reached for her wine glass was pure sex.

This woman was the most sophisticated beauty he had ever encountered. She seemed to understand in a way no one ever had, in silence know less as her dark eyes met his in the dimly lit room and held his gaze.

"I was like that my first time out of section, of course, I was two years in at the time - someone must like you quite a bit."

He knew who that someone was; he looked away hoping that she did not know the full extent of what he had done and with whom.

She sensed his unease.

"We've all been there, Michael… please look at me."

He looked.

"You don't need to hide from me, you and I were the same people, Michael…"

"You are nothing like me," he said and it wasn't with malice that he said those words but with deep sentiment. He didn't want to think of this woman, this very beautiful woman as having done anything that gave her nightmares, caused her to wake up in the middle of the night in chilled sweats. He didn't want to believe that she was every bit as damned as he was.

"Michael, I killed someone… just like you… a lot of someone's," her face was a mask of calm as she studied him, the way his eyes lowered and wouldn't meet hers.

"I understand your pain but I am going to make it easy for you to let go… teach you how to cope, till you care for nothing not even your own soul."

Her words stirred something within him. A sense of togetherness, as if they both were indeed two of a kind and as such the pain in his own heart was a pain she knew and lived with as well.

He looked at her slowly; he reached for the bottle between them and poured himself a glass. His hands were shaking. She studied him, his nervous gestures and when she spoke again her voice was edged with deep tenderness.

"If you don't you will not last long, I know…"

She turned her arms over so that the insides of her wrists were visible and on them lay a hideous mess of twisted scars.

He was suddenly so sad. Her arms, oh god!

To think that this beautiful, perfect creature had wanted to…he reached across the table and ran his thumb over those twisted, puckered scars, the marks of her torment and her suffering.

She pulled her hands from his and placed them on her lap.

"I didn't show you that to entice sympathy," she said coolly.

He didn't answer.

"I did that only so you will know… that is the only alternative afforded us, so you either live or you don't."

"Or they use your family against you," he stated flatly.

"Then they must see great things in you and so do I."

There was a funny look in her eyes as she leaned across the table and cupped his face in her cool perfumed hands. She brought herself close to his ear, her lips grazing the lobe. Her perfume… her moist lips.

He was suddenly more aroused then he could ever recall being and he went to turn his lips to hers, to seize the hotness of her mouth but before he could, she spoke to him and stopped him cold.

"The leggy brunette in the green."

He started to pull back but she had a firm grip on him.

"Your first lesson, Michael… the lady in green is the mistress of a very powerful drug pin by the name of Richards Sinclair, we need information on his whereabouts. She should have a black book of some sort either with her or in her home…get it."

Then she released him and sat back calmly, reached for her wine glass and took a deep swallow. He just stared at her, shocked by what she had said… just like that; he was supposed to seduce this woman.

He glanced over at the woman in green. She was a tall woman, with beautiful features and a hard mouth. She sipped champagne and looked bored with her girlfriend's conversation.

"Go," Simone said, tilting her head, slightly towards the brunette.

He took a deep breath, angry and disheartened. He reached for his glass and finished it off, all while keeping his eyes on Simone, who sat watching him.

"Have a good night," he said as he stood, "Thank you for the wine."

"You'll be alright, Michael," she said and he turned refusing to meet the intense stare of her beautiful eyes.

"I know," he answered and left her sitting there, watching as he made his way towards the brunette, who turned eager eyes on the man who approached her and allowed him into her world all with a cool smile on his lips and a hard stare from his impenetrable green eyes.


	7. A Triangle of Sorts

Chapter 7

A Triangle of Sorts

_Sorry for the delay in posting… school and what not but anyway, this chapter is more or less a transitional chapter, setting the scene for a lot interesting developments, so if it's kind of dull… I apologize. _

Jurgen was in his office late the next evening, downloading his student's daily scores into his system when there was a knock.

Simone popped her head in.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked ever so politely.

He pointed to a chair. "Sure, what's up," he said trying to remain friendly when he was far too tired for anything, especially anything that related to Michael.

"His first…or should I say second test went very well."

"Glad to hear it."

Simone leaned back in her seat, crossed her legs, uncrossed them; her black skirt sliding over her beautiful legs softly. She nodded, her head tilted and he didn't like the way she was looking at him, studying him.

"You're a good man," she said.

Jurgen was puzzled.

"You don't even know me, Simone."

"I don't need to…Michael is lucky to have you," she said and then she looked away. "What is it?"

She coughed, crossed her legs again and looked at him.

"Not a thing," she said softly and the she stood and thanked him for his time.

He knew that look, the one that had caught her blindsided. She was already well on her way to being in love with Michael and Jurgen knew that Michael would surely love her back.

The thought made him feel old and tired. A prized fool and yet, he liked Simone. She was hard and she was cool but there was compassion there, a certain sweetness that he found compelling.

He hoped that she would be good for Michael, though he knew that she must know as well as he did, that love and section didn't mix. She was setting herself up for nothing but trouble but like most people who would find themselves at the receiving end of Michael's cool gaze; none would have the power to resist.

"You have a good night," he told her as she turned to leave. She looked back and nodded, "You too," she said.

-----------------------------------

The weeks passed and then months and all the while Michael's progress was the talk of section. He had through his training with Simone learned to project and cultivate his powerful mystique.

Women were vying for him left and right and no man who worked with him came away from the experience without respecting him. He was cold but he was efficient, he did his job and he did it better then anyone.

Michael oozed charisma from every pore, it was in his walk and in his soft accented speech and Simone and Jurgen could only watch this transformation with heartsick pain. Their love for Michael had not waned but had only grown more feverish in it's intensity. Michael though cool on the outside was in turmoil on the inside for he was deeply in love with Simone. In her fierce sensuality he saw his twin, his other and he wanted her desperately. However, she was his trainer and he her subordinate and so he kept their relationship cool and professional. It didn't matter for Simone did not treat him in any other manner.

Oh yes, there was attraction there, any fool with a pair of eyes could see the obvious chemistry between these two but neither was willing nor able to weaken to the other.

It was immeasurably painful for the both of them, each yearning – serenading the other with only their eyes. Yet, they knew that it was a fool's want.

They had both been around long enough to know that they could not be together and so their delicate dance continued.

urgen had turned to liquor to help him cope with his feelings over Michael. Ah, Michael…how this boy was determined to become the ruin of him. There were no more heartfelt speeches, long glances deep with meaning, no; he was determined to remain a model of efficiency and calm.

He would not let Michael know the depth of his emotions. It was the only solace left, his pride and he clung to it even as the pain and his subsequent dependency on alcohol began to threaten all that he had built at section.

So the days continued and caught between love and duty – passion and loyalty was Michael who had through self preservation alone managed to bury all traces of sentiment and humanity. He was section's perfect machine and no machine needed companionship. Then everything changed.

---------------------------------

Jurgen was on his way to a meeting with Operations and Madeline, as he approached the observation perch; he noticed Simone coming towards him. She looked stunning in a sleek black dress, her make up impeccable and her ever present lilac scarf knotted around her slender throat.

"Jurgen," she said as he waited for her to approach.

"How have you been, Simone?"

There was a nod followed by a small, sad smile.

"I have been better," she admitted and he saw, recognized that look in her eyes as cool as she was on the outside, those depthless eyes of hers showed him everything.

He knew that he must echo the same.

"I have a meeting with Operations…"

"Now?"

"Yes, why?"

She seemed concerned.

"I do as well," she said as a sense of foreboding came over him.

He could sense rather then see the tenseness that Simone was feeling.

"They have never called us together before," she whispered.

"Let's go…no sense in drawing this thing out…"

He wanted to say more but the words were catching in his throat and that bad feeling was there stronger then ever.

He took her arm.

"Come on, Simone…"

She turned to him and started to speak but stopped herself.

Jurgen studied her, the façade she wore of coolness and control was cracking and underneath laid the pieces of a woman torn apart by emotion.

"What is it…talk to me?"

"I am frightened, for Michael's sake, I am worried for him" she answered, her expression pained.

He didn't say a word.

"I know…you must think me foolish…"

"No – not foolish."

Their eyes met for a moment and then she reached over and hugged him. It was a gesture that surprised him.

"He will be the ruin of me," she admitted, "and I will let him…"

She pulled back and kissed him lightly on the lips. There was pain in his eyes but he willed himself to smile, it was her words for what she had said could have been spoken for both of them.

"Let's go," he offered and she nodded, smiled.

"Let's go," she echoed.


	8. Truth and Lies

_Sorry for the long delay in posting. The next chapter should be up sooner then later. Thanks again for reading…_

Chapter 8

Truth and Lies

"Please have a seat, both of you " Madeline said as they walked in to the meeting that each of them was deeply dreading.

They nodded their greeting to both her and Operations, who stood while they and Madeline sat.

Both, Jurgen and Simone knew who this meeting concerned and the tension in the air was thick with their shared apprehension.

"You asked to see us," Simone said, looking from one set of expressionless to another.

She didn't want the usual run around, something was wrong and she could feel it. She glanced at Jurgen and she could see just in his body language, his stooped shoulders and his nervous hands cleaning his glasses over and over again, that he to knew as she did that something was definitely amiss.

"Michael is going on an mission," Madeline stated and the collected sigh of relief was noticeable.

"He will be gone for at least two years," Operations stated and Simone could not keep the look of absolute panic from creeping into her eyes, it was so deep, she froze rooted into the chair in which she sat.

Jurgen tilted his head to one side and nodded, his eyes closed and then after a moment, he looked up met them eye to eye.

"He is not ready," Jurgen stated, trying to keep things about business.

No, he couldn't bear it, didn't want to imagine Michael somewhere other then here where he could see him, look at him, teach him. The thought of two years with out him made him sick to his stomach.

"We disagree," Madeline went on as she looked to Simone and then back to Jurgen.

Her cold brown eyes searching each of their faces, gauging their reaction to the news.

"In fact, you should see Michael's amazing progress as testament to both your own skill and ability, you have done well…"

Operations slid a panel across the desk towards Jurgen. "

"This is his mission profile, go through it with him…in the morning, he will be debriefed and then sent on his way, understood?"

They could only nod, no longer trusting their voices. The pain was so raw, so deep…

"Can we go?" Jurgen asked and Madeline nodded.

Forgoing pleasantries, Simone hurried from the room and Jurgen watched as she half ran, half walked down the hall to the nearest ladies room, the door slamming hard behind her. Jurgen gathered his things and left and as he did, he heard Madeline say to Operations,

"she was getting too attached…this should fix it, in two years this won't matter."

Jurgen couldn't speak for Simone but as for himself, the next two years would matter very much…

------------------------------------

She stood in front of the mirror, running handfuls of water over her face, trying to the stop the burn, the heat on her face.

There was lump in her throat, one she willed away. She was not a crier, never had been and never would be but she had also never been in love with anyone before. She was a woman who prided herself of her calm demeanor under every imaginable scenario. But, love – Simone was ill prepared for love and this wasn't just any love. It was a raw, burning, flame. One ripping a path through her intestines and she had to know, had to let him know how she felt. She only a little time left with him. She knew she looked a mess, make up smeared; her hair in a disarray but it didn't matter…it wouldn't matter.

She rushed from the room and down to the practice floor, where Michael was working with his martial arts instructor.

"Michael," she called and he turned, slowly – looked her way and their eyes locked and the moment was forever frozen, forever there and he hurried up to her side and she hurried to his and then before she knew it; she was in his arms and she was kissing him. In that kiss every bit of hopeless despair poured out, all their shared pain, the strife. Everyone turned to watch, shocked by this show of such open emotion. When they pulled away, she locked eyes on him again.

"I am in love with you," she told him.

He pulled her tighter to him and felt at last some semblance of hope, that maybe he had a chance to redeem himself. He wanted her with him, this beautiful woman and neither of them saw Jurgen standing a discreet distance away, watching, the mission profile in one hand. His eyes filled with unshed tears as he watched them, the man he loved and the woman who would be his doom, locked in an embrace that made his heart bleed with sorrow for what he could never have.

----------------------------------

Michael sat in front of Jurgen, Simone sitting beside him and the panel detailing his next two years on his lap. There was silence and then Simone reached over and touched his hand, her fingers were cold and as he turned his face to hers, there were tears in her eyes. "What are you thinking, Michael?"

He turned from her and looked to Jurgen who sat behind his desk, tense and obviously agitated. He caught Michael's gaze, held it and was the first to break the stare.

"Michael?" Simone asked again, he turned to her and nodded thoughtful now.

"I am not sure," he said, carefully, "will I come back?"

Jurgen noticed he was addressing him.

"There is no certainty's in this world," he said, answering Michael as honestly as he could.

"Don't listen to him," Simone urged, "you will be fine."

"Is this your doing?" Michael asked tersely as he squeezed Simone's hand and stood. He held the panel in front of him and drew a deep breath before he spoke again.

"You don't want me to come back, do you?"

Jurgen looked away.

"That is not true, Michael…"

Simone reached for Michael's arm but he shrugged her off.

"Just tell me, did you do this?"

"No," Jurgen said and he looked away, not being able to bear the look in Michael's eyes, these horrible accusations. He wanted to scream, tell Michael how he felt, didn't he know; understand that the last thing in the world he wanted was Michael to be cut from his life, possibly dead.

"I don't believe you."

"Stop it!" Jurgen cried out, whirling on him. "You have no right, you have nerve, Michael…if you only knew…"

He turned in his seat and put his head in his hands and Simone was standing, she tugged on Michael's arm.

"Don't do this, Michael."

He looked to her and there was pain in her eyes, etched in the lines of her mouth.

"You know this isn't his fault."

He didn't say another word to either of them; he just turned and walked out of the room, leaving the two people who loved him the most, broken by the inevitable they were all powerless to stop.


	9. The Target

_Authors Note: Sorry, I haven't updated in awhile…life has been crazy…_

Chapter 9

The Target

(7 months later)

"Darling, are you awake?"

Her voice was like fingernails being raked over a raw nerve. He turned his head into the pillow and shut his eyes tightly, trying to will away not only the sound of her but also the harsh sunlight.

He felt her sit down beside him and then she was leaning over him, kissing the sides of his face. He could no longer ignore her; he turned and offered her a smile as she brought her lips to his for a good morning kiss.

"Sleep well, love?"

"I did alright," he replied.

"Come into the kitchen, I made breakfast," she said, giving him another kiss before rising.

"I am going to shower first," he told her and she nodded and left the room.

He lay there for a moment and as he did often these days, thought of Simone. He willed himself to draw her into his memory, her smile, her face…the panther like prowess of her hard, sensual body.

He remembered their parting with sadness, with pain. She had followed him from Jurgen's office and caught him outside his room. He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear it. He could still taste her on his lips. A taste now mixed with bitterness, he shouldn't have said what he had to Jurgen, and he knew this wasn't his fault. He had been selfish to turn this on him. He leaned his head against cold metal and closed his eyes.

"You shouldn't have kissed me, Simone."

He heard her sigh beside him.

"I know that," she said and then she was touching his back, his shoulders, moving closer to him and he was turning, catching her in his arms and he was kissing her, hard enough to hurt her, his hands tangled in the thickness of her hair.

"Oh-god, Oh Michael…" she breathed and somehow they got the door open and stumbling into the dark of his room. They set upon each other, each consumed and driven by a passion so strong, they were weak against it.

They wound up, naked under the covers, kissing and caressing each other, she laid beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, to her bared breasts. He paused as he entered her, felt her stiffen and her eyes were closed, she was overwhelmed with so many emotions, so many fears.

"Look at me, Simone," he whispered and she did, opening her eyes, she reached up and touched his face.

"If you wait for me," he breathed, "I can do this…I'll come back if you wait, wait for me." She arched her back, drew him deeper into her. "

Were fools Michael…but I will wait, I will…"

There was no more talk after that just their love born in the tangle of arms and legs, they came together again and again that night, each time renewing, rekindling a flame so hot, so desperate nothing else would ever matter. In the morning, he woke to her sitting beside him, and he sat up and wrapped her up in his arms and held her.

"Be careful," she breathed into his neck and he kissed the sides of her face and promised her that he would.

-------------------------------------------------

He hoped that it would be a promise that he wouldn't have to break.

He remembered how it felt when he first laid eyes on Marissa Conway, the woman who he had to seduce; she was an Amazonian blonde with huge eyes and very thin lips. Her beauty was one of haughty entitlement and she was well known for being temperamental. It was a strange sensation as the woman whose face had grazed his mission profile, turned her eyes to him and he knew that his future and Simone's rode on if he could get her to take the bait.

His mission was far from a simple one, she had to fall in love with him and in doing so let down her guard enough so that he could observe her terrorist activities, she was one of Larson Demarco's mistresses and as such she was responsible for arranging meetings with wealthy 'clients' and using her massive home (bought and paid for by her lover) to entertain them.

Her beginnings were humble ones, she had been born and raised in a small English province – her father a bricklayer and her mother a homemaker. She was number eight in a family of ten and as such made little mark. She escaped this stifling and penniless existence for a more exciting one in Paris. She became with steady succession, the lover of first a Italian Diplomat, then a American stage actor and then a Brazilian drug tycoon, who to escape his abuse moved on to Larson Demarco who proved himself to be every bit as heartless as the Brazilian.

When she and Michael locked eyes at a party in Berlin, she was thirty -five and had never been in love with anyone and Michael moved in on her, using every trick in the book and then some. When she had after a long courtship allowed him to make love to her, he left her breathless and feeling for once in her life, completely satisfied. She asked him to move in explaining that he would be required to leave with Demarco was around, which wasn't very often and Michael agreed.

He was a writer he told her and could not take care of her; as he wanted, he laid it on thick and made a big emotional show about his wanting to be her husband and take care of her. Marissa found his declarations quaint but she by no means entertained them. She wanted to be loved desperately but she loved money more.

She moved him in and shrugged off the marriage talks. It was in her gold platted bathroom that he stood now, staring at his reflection. Who was the man staring back at him? Who he had become? Rene, his dear friend would look upon him in disgust and rightfully so. Michael could not bear the man that he had become. He despised Marissa. He found her vapid and annoying but he also felt a small pang of sympathy for her. They were both whores and ruled over by a life they had little control over.

What really troubled Michael was the knowledge of what was to come and he was sick at the thought. Michael knew she was in love with him and now with that done and over with, he was to move on to the next phase of his mission. He didn't want to kill anyone, least of all a woman whose crime was little more then greed.

Yet, if it came down to it, so be it. He wanted to get back to Simone, to the life he hoped they could desperately have. He wondered if she thought of him as much as he thought of her.


	10. Out in the Open

_AN: Sorry for the delay in posting…_

Chapter 11

Out in the Open

Michael would be pleased to know that she did think of him, in fact, all she did was think of him and wait and hope.

She was discouraged from asking any questions about Michael's mission and when she would go to Jurgen for answers, he was especially tight lipped.

"I don't know anymore then you do, Simone," he would say and then that would be the extent of their conversation.

Simone wanted to share her pain with Jurgen, he was the only person who she knew could understand how she felt but Jurgen was a sorry mess these days, his drinking was out of control and his treatment of his students began bordering on the vicious.

More then once, a student had to be taken to the infirmary with broken bones.

Simone had heard through others that Madeline had urged him to quit with the drinking, going so far as to begin threatening him with abeyance and that when she did; he had laughed in her face.

It seemed that with Michael gone, Jurgen no longer cared if he lived or died. Simone went out of her way to reach him but he was disgruntle and clearly ill at ease in her presence and she couldn't understand why for all she wanted to do was help him.

One night, she followed him and she was shocked to see him entering a gay bar.

All at once, things became frighteningly clear to her and she realized that he had been in love with Michael and if he did love Michael, did Michael love him back?

She sat in her car, a wound up mix of emotions as she watched Jurgen leave an hour later with a young man on his arm; they got in his car and drove away. She started the engine, her thoughts a tangle.

As much as she loved Michael could she ever begin to believe she truly knew him? It was with that heartsick thought; that she turned in the direction Jurgen went and followed him home.

--------

He always felt foolish after the boy of the night had left him.

He felt soiled and disgusted with himself and he would turn to the bottle in a vicious circle that was fast consuming him. He was looking – striving for someone, anyone to replace Michael and there was no one, how could anyone measure up to a man who was now mythic in Jurgen's memory.

He was consumed, twisted and made bitter by the truth of Michael's feelings for him, which were such that would never bear fruit.

For he was Simone's and she his and he would never have Michael the way he so desperately wanted.

He sat down on the edge of his bed; in the small non-descript condo that he rented. The curtains drawn and the room midnight black as he sat, in silence, weeping as he often did these days such was the misery that he had now begun to live in.

He knew that he was jeopardizing everything he had built by picking up these casual lays but he couldn't help himself. In a moment, one brief moment – with alcohol fogging the brain, he could pretend that the boy in his arms and in his bed was Michael.

Michael… How was he to know that love would be so brutal and so consuming, he had never dreamed, had never imagined that he would be so utterly left at the mercy of someone else?

His doorbell rang, which stirred him from his reverie. He ignored it, not moving… they would go away, eventually.

The buzzer sounded again. He stood on tired legs and made his way to the front door. He was drunk and in a very foul mood.

"Go away," he growled at the door.

"Jurgen, it's me – it's Simone," came back a voice. He paused. Simone. He was sick of her; of seeing her face, her beauty was the bane of his existence and yet, deep down beneath the mountain of jealousy he felt for her, there was respect and admiration. Simone was no one's fool and he respected her for her tenacity and her spunk.

He liked her but he couldn't bear to be reminded of her presence. He opened the door and Simone could see how very drunk he was and she thought of what she would say and how she would say it. He took her silence as her disapproval over his drinking.

"Who gave you my address?" He barked.

"Addresses, can be found, Jurgen," she said simply, "Can I come in, please?"

"It's fucking late," he spat out but nevertheless held the door open for her, she stepped in and he closed the door.

The place was a mess and reeked of booze fumes and dirty linens.

"I am worried about you," she said as she turned back to him. He chuckled bitterly and stepped past her and into the kitchenette, where he set upon fixing himself another drink. "Want one?" He asked and she shook her head.

"Would I be right in assuming that we are friends," she began cautiously as she followed him into the kitchen.

"I suppose, Simone," he said absently.

"So if I asked you something, you would be honest with me?" He looked up and saw the serious drawn look on her face, the hesitation swimming in those lovely almond shaped eyes.

"Spit it out," he said as he took a long swallow of his drink.

"Are you and Michael lovers?" He nearly choked on his drink; he coughed and sat it down, carefully.

"Are you serious?"

"Is that no?"

"Of course, it's a no – what in the hell, I am not – that," he spat out in a furious panic. "Yes, you are… I saw you leaving a bar to…"

"How dare you follow me, Simone!" She felt her chest tighten and she wondered if she had the strength to endure this, for she loved Michael…it was a kind of love, she had never experienced. Here was a man that made her feel like a love sick school girl, it was a new feeling – one so alien and foreign to a woman like her, who prided herself in being clear minded and practical.

"I'm sorry but I wanted to help you," she began but he was shaking his head angrily. "Jurgen…"

"For fuck sakes!" He was gripping the counter, his head hung low and his shoulders shaking and she realized that he was crying. She went to him but he pushed her off.

"You don't understand…"

"I want to, please…" He looked up at her, this all too lovely woman with her poised and confident beauty.

Oh, how could Michael not love her? Who wouldn't? She was brains and beauty, in short, perfect.

"You needn't worry, Simone…Michael and I are not nor will we ever be lovers, satisfied?"

"Your in love with him, is this what this is about – this mess, this self loathing," she swept her arm in a wide gesture and he looked at her sadly, realizing how pathetic he must be in her eyes.

"Not all of us get what we want in this world, Simone."

"Don't do this to yourself, Jurgen," her voice was softer now.

"You cannot destroy yourself like this…"

"Why? Go on tell me what is worth sticking around for…"

"Hope," she said simply and he laughed, a bitter laugh.

"Hope died the day…you claimed him, now go home, Simone…let me finish what you started."

He took a long deliberate swallow of his drink and refused to look at her.

"If you love him then you will be here when he gets back," she said as she made her exit. In her wake, there was no reply


	11. A Means to an End

AN: The last chapter was kind of short ... so heres another... this story is complete so I am going to try and have it all up and about asap.

Chapter 11

A Means to an End

Things were progressing well, in the year since he had been with Marissa, Demarco had visited on two separate occasions.

Michael had made sure to have careful surveillance of the meetings that went on in his absence. So careful in fact, that Demarco's goons hadn't found a thing. The last meeting had proved especially revealing.

Demarco had a rather large shipment coming in soon, that was all Michael needed to hear, once the date was set he would be able to call a team in and take them all out. He was remorseful; he didn't want to destroy a woman who claimed to love him.

Yet, he had no choice. This was who he was now and there was no going back. He counted the days when he could get back to his beloved Simone and finally have some semblance of peace and normality.

They owed him at least that. The chance, just one for happiness and all the happiness he wanted, needed was with his Simone.

Six months later and a year and half into the mission, Marissa mentioned casually over breakfast that he had to leave once again. T

his was it, he was sure of it. He made love to her for what he knew was the last time, being surprisingly tender because he knew that the next time they laid eyes on one another, she would find herself betrayed.

He left the house and contacted section. "Two days," he told them, "Now get me a team and quick."

---

When the smoke cleared, Demarco sat on the sofa, a suitcase of money in front of him and at least twelve men scattered around him, all quite dead.

Marissa sat beside him, hysterical with fear as about twenty masked men in black stood around her living room, pointing various high powered assault rifles at her and her lover. Demarco for his part; wore a smirking smile.

"Get up," a harsh voice barked, gesturing at Demarco, who stood as three more men, hustled him out of the room. Marissa watched in terrified silence, trembling.

"Please – p – please, I don't know anything…"

The man that was closest to her gestured to the man holding the gun towards her abdomen.

"Kill the girl," he said.

His voice, why did she recognize that voice, she leapt up and went at the man, who knocked her back and sent her sprawling to the ground.

"I know you, you son of a bitch!" The man stared at her and turned once more to her, his eyes…oh god! Through the mask he wore she recognized those eyes, those beautiful green eyes.

"Oh god," she managed to choke out.

"I am sorry Marissa," he told her as he turned and left her there.

"You son of a bitch, I am having your baby…" He paused at the door as her words went through, catching him unaware, staggering him.

Then came the shot, a single shot and there was silence. A cold silence, that filled his gut with the horror of who and what he was now.

He was not a man anymore; there was no purpose now to why he killed… He leaned against the wall, breathing hard as the awesome awareness of who he was threatened to overtake him.

On his hands, now was the stain of his first innocent, his own child.

------

When Michael came back it marked his four years at section and when he returned, desperate to take Simone in his arms, he found that she was not there.

She was on a mission and wouldn't be back for another few weeks Jurgen saw him come into the training room and hang back a discreet distance away.

He turned to his student, a young lady by the name of Teri and dismissed her. She looked to her mentor and then to the magnificent looking man standing off in the distance and then made her way to the showers.

Jurgen turned back to Michael with a pounding heart and as their eyes met, he saw that time had not dimmed Michael's appeal. No, at last – he was a man.

One who was coolly assured and completely in control and how he still wanted him. He always would. The two approached one another, slowly and then as they came together, it was Jurgen who spoke first.

"All in once piece, I see…"

"Yes, you look well," he said. "I try, so… just off the van?"

Michael nodded, "Simone… she is on a mission?"

"It's routine, nothing to worry about." Michael nodded, thoughtful.

" I owe you an apology," he said softly and Jurgen shook his head.

"You don't."

"Yes, I do," Michael began, "I should not have parted with you like that, it was uncalled for."

"It was a shitty situation," Jurgen admitted, "took us all by surprise."

Michael paused, " I had another reason for seeing you." "Yes?" "I am going to ask Simone to marry me."

Jurgen couldn't find words, he just gaped at Michael openly, shocked.

"Is that allowed?"

"What – is that – what…allowed, sure, I guess…sometimes but…"

"I want her to be my wife, will you stand up for me; you are the only man here that I respect."

Jurgen was completely taken aback, he loved this man and he knew Michael knew it and yet, here he was asking if he would be his best man? It was bizarre and worse still, marriage to another operative; was he mad?

"That isn't a good idea."

"Don't say that," Michael said, meaning it.

"Michael…listen to me, if you have ever valued my opinion, don't marry her."

"You're only saying that because…"

An awkward silence and Jurgen was the first to speak, his voice a whisper.

"Why because of how I feel about you…get over it! That is not why…"

"Then what is it?"

"Because you will not be able to have children with her, live a normal life…your ops, and worse still, valentine ops…do you know what she is doing right now, she is fucking someone else!"

Michael hauled off and hit him, catching him off guard; Jurgen staggered back and gaped at Michael who at least had the good sense to look ashamed.

"I'm sorry."

"You are making the biggest mistake of your life."

"At least you have acknowledged that this is my life…not yours and not theirs – but mine and I will marry her…"

He turned heel and started marching off. Jurgen called after him but he didn't heed him, just kept walking. He knew what it was he wanted and he would get it. No one would stand in his way.

----------

"You wanted to see me?"

He came in and turned as the steel doors slammed behind him and then he turned to Madeline, seated behind her desk. He nodded, "I do."

"I have to tell you, you have done remarkably well, we are very pleased with your performance," she said, that cold smile spreading across her face.

He took a deep breath.

"Thank you," he replied.

"Please," she said, gesturing to a chair.

"No, I prefer to stand."

There was silence and then she stood and came towards him.

He stood his ground as she planted herself in front of him, her back to her desk and arms crossed over her breasts.

"Well, what is it you wanted to see me about," she said.

"I want to marry," he stated and watched as her eyes widened with surprise. "A fellow operative," she said and he nodded.

"Simone?"

"Yes, Simone," he said.

"Well, what does she say?" He paused, looked down and then back towards those ever-watchful brown eyes.

"I haven't asked her, yet."

"Ah," Madeline said, "Michael…marriage between operatives is a delicate situation at best, understand…we handle this on a case by case scenario."

"I am not asking you for permission, I am telling you," he said as hardness crept into his voice and Madeline seemed taken aback by his forcefulness.

"You don't have that authority," she told him, her voice edged with ice. He wasn't going to be intimidated, he wasn't going to cower and beg before her.

No, he still had some rights did he not? He wanted to make Simone his wife, to the hell with them and Jurgen.

All that mattered was having Simone.

"I have given you my life, my body and my soul…I will continue to give you those things, that is my word and for that I ask for this, this one thing…"

"This one thing is not a small thing, you realize."

"I realize," he said and she looked up at him and came towards him, laid a hand on his forearm and he had to resist the urge to pull away from her.

"Don't you see Michael…you do not exist nor does Simone, your marriage would be a lie from its conception."

"Yes," he said, "but not were it matters, not were it counts." She slid her hand away from him and then turned and went back to her desk.

"I will speak to operations and in the future, do not demand things from your superiors." "Yes," he said as he turned to leave.

"Oh, Michael," she called. He turned back. "Marissa Conway was pregnant at the time of her death, please be more careful in the future…for your sake…"

Her words stung him but he remained impassive to her words.

"Yes, of course," he said, leaving. He could feel Madeline eyes following him out as the steel doors swooshed behind him, once outside he breathed a sigh of relief.

Now that it was done, he could wait for Simone to return to what he hoped was some semblance of a future for the both of them


End file.
